Surrender Sanity
by LoriHuCalmia
Summary: That cliffhanger at the end of "I Am Unicorn" was just begging for this. Spoilers up to "The First Time." Warnings for non-con and violence. Set in the L-verse, but not part of continuity.
1. White Flag

_I hate cliffhangers, and I hate that I can't watch the episodes on account of not having a private television in college (or enough time). Either way, I wanted to write this little piece (don't worry, I'm not abandoning Fifteen or Tesseraction, even though I probably should since I only got TWO reviews last chapter for Fifteen!) because I'm incredibly frustrated at the person I love too._

_Disclaimer: I don't own the show "Glee" or the song "White Flag" by Dido._

* * *

><p>Chapter I: White Flag<p>

_"I promise I'm not trying to make your life harder  
><em>_Or return to where we were  
>I will go down with this ship<br>And I won't put my hands up and surrender  
>There will be no white flag above my door<br>I'm in love, and always will be."_

**Kurt**

If I had my way, people would see the world the way Brittany does, except they'd still see that Santana's a bitch. (Oh, come on, like I didn't know. Who else could talk Brittany into doing anything but breathing?) See, she saw me as a unicorn, and that's vaguely worrying, but my dad was right. A unicorn without a horn is just a horse. What he was trying to say was that horses have nothing to make it stand out of the rest of the pack. But he's wrong, because sometimes, one horse is obviously stronger and better than the others. My aunt Mildred owns a ranch; I know what a good, healthy horse looks like, and I've got to say that it looks a lot like my boyfriend, Blaine Anderson.

Okay, **maybe** it's not fair to compare the boy who switched schools for me to a horse, but…Tony! He can't pass up the lead! I mean, all three of them offered it to him! And when he does take it and that casting list comes out, I'm going to have to pretend to be happy.

Well, that list isn't going to come out for a few days. Until then, I think I can find a place to cry it out. So, on a Tuesday afternoon at around 3:10, I finally leave the stage and toward the greenroom with tears streaming down my face.

* * *

><p><strong>Blaine<strong>

If I had my way, people would see the world Kurt does, except they wouldn't all be gay. (Oh, come on, like I need more competition for Kurt's feelings. Have you **seen** him spin those sai swords?) See, he's brave enough to go back to the school where he was pretty much sexually assaulted, and that's vaguely worrying, but I'm here now, and I can stand up for him the way I never stood up for myself, and the way no one else ever stood up for me. A few days ago, Brittany said that Kurt is like a unicorn; he sticks out in the crowd, and I've got to say that that is the best comparison she's ever made.

Okay, **maybe** it's not fair to compare somebody as strong as Kurt to a unicorn, but…really! I can't pass up the lead! I mean, all three of them offered it to me! But if I did take it, when the casting list comes out I'll have a very disappointed boyfriend.

Well, I am a junior. Until next year, I think I can wait for the lead. So, on a Tuesday afternoon at around 3:10, I finally leave the greenroom and go toward the stage with tears streaming down my face.

* * *

><p><strong>Kurt<strong>

Oh, crap! Kurt, hide your tears!

"Oh my gosh, Kurt!" Blaine puts his hands on either side of my face. "What's wrong?"

I sniffle. "I heard your audition," I say carefully. I don't know how much he should know. "You were great."

Blaine looks guilty. "Um, did you hear anything else?"

I shake my head, but I can't meet his eyes. "No," I lie, and true to form, it comes out shaky and weak.

Blaine sighs. "I'm really sorry, Kurt," he says pleadingly. "I'll go tell them that I can't take the role right now, alright? Please, please don't be upset."

I'm sure my open-mouthed look is not at all attractive ,but I could care less about that right now. "Blaine, you can't just refuse the lead role!" I exclaim.

"Why not?" he demands. "If you got the role that you knew I wanted, wouldn't you give it up for me?"

"Well, yes, but," I don't know what to say, so I laugh cynically instead. "Wow, how am I supposed to compete with Brittany at the debates when I can't even talk to you without stuttering?"

Blaine looks confused. "Wait, Brittany's running? I thought she was your campaign manager."

I nod miserably. "I yelled at her because I was mad that she put up posters comparing me to a unicorn," I sniff, the tears that had just started to dry are flowing again.

Blaine takes my hand. "I think they'll understand if I'm too busy being my boyfriend's campaign manager to play Tony."

I look up at him. "Do you **want** that role, Blaine? If I hadn't said I wanted it, and they offered it to you, would you have taken it right then and there?"

Blaine only hesitates a minute, and we both know it's because he's debating whether to lie to me or not, but finally, with a shameful sigh, he nods. "Yes."

"Then **take** it, Blaine," I slip my hand around his. "And I promise that, when they put on _Pinocchio_, I'll take Pinocchio after you audition for him."

Blaine tilts his head to look me in the eye. "Are you sure, Kurt?" he asks, stroking the back of my hand with his thumb.

I nod and smile. The tears are finally dry. "Positive," I tell him honestly.

Blaine smiles widely and we both run down the corridor to the stage.

"I accept," he says with oh-so-sexy confidence. He's looking at me as he says it, and he's so grateful! You know, when you think about it, Blaine Anderson has really soft eyes.

* * *

><p><strong>Blaine<strong>

"Miss Pillsbury," I smile as charmingly as I can, "I had a few things I wanted to say to you without Kurt overhearing," I sit down in front of her, eyes darting furtively around. I know Kurt has no reason to be here, especially since he has a French class right now, but there's no such thing as being too careful.

"Sure," she invite me to sit and I do so gratefully.

"I want Kurt to understudy for Tony, and I want him to have a role." I say. "I'll do my best to be there for every rehearsal and every show, but if I can't, I can't think of a better person for the role than Kurt."

"Well, alright," Miss Pillsbury nods. "I can do that. He can play Chino."

"Thank you," I say. There's an idea percolating inside my head, but if I were to hurt myself on purpose, Kurt would kill me, and I have no desire to hurt myself so badly that I'll lose the role. I want Kurt to play Tony more than I want to play Tony, but not that much.

I wonder how Kurt is going to react to the fact that he has to kill me onstage.

* * *

><p><strong>Kurt<strong>

I know I should look at the list. I mean, what kind of boyfriend doesn't look at the list? But when Blaine tells me to go look at it, what choice do I have but to go look at it? Le sigh.

OH MY GOSH, I'M UNDERSTUDYING FOR TONY! **And** I actually got a role! But…wait, doesn't Chino kill Tony at the end?

I swallow dramatically. "Oh, god, I think I'm going to be sick."

"Why?" Blaine doesn't understand, but he's chasing after me anyway.

"Because I can't kill you, Blaine!" how can I make this any clearer? "Not even if it's just pretend. I don't want to pretend to kill you!"

"Then don't," Blaine says, looking disappointed. He's hurt, and for some reason, that makes me hurt, but I see the posters Brittany's put up and I know that I need something to keep me from going insane when my insides are spilled out all across the walls for everyone to see.

"Fine," I say, nodding. I turn on my heels and leave. I can do this all on my own, especially now that I know what to do.

* * *

><p><strong>Brittany<strong>

Why would Kurt withdraw from the campaign? He's the only other unicorn in this school. Yeah, I'm a prettier and more well-known unicorn, but I'm not the kind of unicorn this school needs.

* * *

><p><strong>Rachel<strong>

Ugh. That ridiculous I'm-named-after-a-character-from-"Les-Miserables" is far too loud. I know he thinks he's the greatest thing on this planet since Kurt Hummel, but honestly, nobody's better than Kurt, especially not this Gavroche. He's only succeeded in making me dislike my favorite musical right after "Wicked" and "Evita."

Speaking of which, where is Kurt right now? It's almost time for our—

"Rachel Berry?" the elderly woman at the front complimented me on my sweater. She's so nice! "Room 210 is open for you right now."

"Thank you, ma'am," I curtsey—it's only polite, after all—"but I'm waiting for my friend, Kurt Hummel."

"Hmm," she runs her pen down the clipboard. "Oh, the high-pitched boy. Yeah, he signed himself out, said he didn't want to audition anymore."

"But, it's NYADA," I am thoroughly shocked.

The woman shrugs. "Better boys than him have cracked under the pressure."

I grab my purse and walk up to her purposefully. "You don't care about him at all! I take back what I said about you being a nice woman!"

Behind me, she says something about, "You never said I was nice at all." Ugh, some people can't even listen. But Kurt won't be one of them. I'll talk him back into auditioning, and I'll make sure he listens. Everyone listens to me. It's a gift.

* * *

><p><strong>Burt<strong>

"Sure, son. What kind of job do you want to have here?" I also kind of want to know how much money he needs, but I would really appreciate the help either way and—

"A permanent one, dad."

* * *

><p><em>Ugh, if the show cops out on having Blaine and Kurt talk about Tony, I will be so mad! Sorry, it's been a really stressful week. My girlfriend pretty much just confessed that the only reason she proposed to me was to solidify our relationship before I found out she was pregnant. I'm a girl. Yes, it means exactly what you think it means. I'll get the next chapters of <span>Fifteen<span> and Tesseraction up on Sunday, I promise. I'm mostly writing now to get my mind off things._


	2. So Small

_I can't even...eight reviews, you guys. YOU GUYS! You seriously make everything better. I love you all and you have no idea how much you guys have helped me._

_Apparently, I can only write in first-person after I've seen an episode, and even then, this chapter really sucks. I'm sorry guys, but I'm putting this up without having seen "Asian F" because I don't want to spoil this for myself. __Let me repeat, I have NOT seen the new episode. I wrote this while re-watching "Purple Piano Project" on hulu. I can't even watch "I Am Unicorn" until tomorrow! (Relying on youtube and spoilers sucks!) So, please, nobody spoil it for me! Unless you want to tell me which role Kurt got (and it better not be Riff, or I will cut a bitch)._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or "So Small" by Carrie Underwood. I do, however, own a life I don't really want_

* * *

><p>"Sometimes, that mountain you've been climbing is just a grain of sand.<br>What you've been up there searching for, forever, is in your hands.  
>When you figure out love is all that matters after all.<br>It sure makes everything else, seem so small."

Chapter II: So Small

**Burt**

"Sure," I shrug. "How's school?" I ask, wondering which asshole scared him into spending way too much time with his old man.

"Enlightening," Kurt nods. "I learned a lot."

"Yeah?" I'm being careful, making sure my voice is all comforting and stuff. "Like what?"

"How to be realistic," Kurt says. "I'm never getting out of Lima, so I should just prepare myself."

"Whoa!" I duck out from under Mr. Pirelli's SUV hood. "What do you mean, you're never getting out of Lima? It's been your dream since you were little. I caught you singing along and dancing to Patti LuPone in a Cinderella dress when you were two. What happened?"

"I'm not as special as I thought I was," Kurt's voice just kills me. "I don't know how to do anything else. So I'm having you teach me."

I lean against the car. "So, you're going to stay at home, not because you like spending time with me, but because you don't think you're good enough?"

"Dad, that's not true. I love spending time with you."

"That's good, because I like spending time with the Kurt I know, but right now, you're not the Kurt I know," I close the lid. I have way more important things to pay attention to right now, like my son. "Kurt, you don't give up. Remember when that Karofsky kid was bullying you?"

"I ran away like a scared little girl," oh, god, now he's crying. I really, really don't know how to deal with this, but I have to try.

"Blaine ran away too. Is he a scared little girl?"

Kurt looks astonished. "No! But they beat him."

I feel the vein in my forehead bulging, and Kurt puts a hand on my shoulder. "Dad, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I say. My voice must have a bite, because Kurt flinches and removes his hand. I grab for it with my cleaner hand. "Hey, look at me." He does. "Look, I'm not good with all this performing stuff, but I've seen you, and I've got to say, you're amazing. And I'm not just saying this because I'm your dad. I look at all the other people in that Glee Club of yours, and the only person who comes close to matching your talent is Finn."

Kurt smiles a little bit, and I punch him on the shoulder. "So, um, don't give up, okay? If you see something you want, you go get it."

Kurt laughs a little and nods when he leaves. I might have just lost the best hands I have around here, but I got my son back, and that's what matters.

* * *

><p><strong>Kurt<strong>

"Miss Pillsbury?" I ask. "I hope it's not too late to say that I've accepted the role after all.."

"Oh, of course not," Miss Pillsbury sounds like Mickey Mouse fornicated with Bambi. Oh my Gaga, it's going to take a carton of bleach to clear that image from my head. "But we're going to have to put a lot of make-up on you."

My smile slips. "What do you mean?"

"Well, Kurt, you're very…delicate-looking, and what we're looking for in this role is-"

_Click._

What they're looking for in a role is not me then. I can't even play freaking Chino without needing to "man up." Don't they know that I am a man? Well, maybe right now I'm still a boy, but so is Blaine!

And speaking of Blaine, I have to call him! "Blaine, I need you to meet me at the Lima Bean in half an hour."

"Half an hour? Kurt, I have a Physics test in five minutes. I'm only calling because Miss Pillsbury called me to say that you're upset."

"How important is one test in Physics? I'm your boyfriend!"

"I know that, Kurt! I begged Miss Pillsbury to let you play Tony. How much more do I have to give up for you?"

I freeze.. "You gave up Tony?"

"Yes. What, did you not know that?"

"She said I had to be more masculine," I feel the sniffles coming on, and it's either from the stomach flu that's been going around, or Blaine. "I thought she meant that I had to be more masculine for Chino."

"Kurt, do you seriously think you're not sexy enough to be in a musical at all?" Blaine sounds more upset than when I yelled at him.

"I have to go," I say. An absolutely gorgeous bouquet of roses catches my eye; Blaine loves red and orange, probably because he still has an unhealthy obsession with Gryffindor. Who cares? I'm already playing hooky. I might as well do something to make my boyfriend happy.

"That'll be nine dollars," says the vendor.

"Fine," I pull out a ten—it's all the money I have left until I have to work for my dad again—and get my change and the twelve roses.

I get back to McKinley just in time to see Blaine head down the stairs toward the parking lot and meet him at the bottom.

"Kurt!" he looks surprised.

"How was your quiz?" I ask. I hope my eyes aren't red any more. My voice is still shaking, so they probably are, which is absolutely terrible for my skin.

Blaine shrugs. "It was on the syllabus, and I wrote really fast. I'm hoping she's going to give me the benefit of the doubt when she can't understand half my answers, since I don't understand half my answers either."

I laugh a bit and hand over the roses. His eyes get misty. Oh my gosh, I made my boyfriend cry with a romantic gesture! Ten points for Kurt Hummel! I practically preen myself.

"Are you okay with what I'm doing?" Blaine asks. "If you don't want me to take the role, I won't, I swear. I didn't mean what I said earlier. Your happiness means a lot to me, Kurt."

"I know," I say, ducking. "I know I should have supported you from the very beginning. You deserve that role, Blaine, and I'm very touched to see how much you're willing to give up for my happiness, but you deserve to be happy too."

Blaine gives me this smile like he's just seen the sun for the first time. There are probably better descriptions for it, but they're all too gooey for me to say out loud. "You're going to make a great Chino."

"Hey, homos," someone says above us. Blaine raises his head as I duck. I'm not ready for Blaine to move me down two steps on the stairs before there's an almighty splash.

I look up again and I see Karofsky, standing in front of a group of football players holding an empty Big Gulp cup.

"What the hell, Karofsky!" I yell. I'm shaking, and this time it's definitely from rage, but before I can get my face pounded in after giving Karofsky a glancing blow, Blaine pulls me back.

"What do you want?" his voice is scared, but he holds me securely. He won't let anything hurt me.

"Seeing you guys touching is made me lose my lunch. I figured I should lose some more lunch directly on you two sick queers," he spits.

I'm about to hit him again, but I see his eyes drift toward Blaine and my intertwined hands and a bolt of realization strikes me. He's not upset that Blaine and I are touching, he's upset that Blaine and **I** are touching.

"Sorry, Karofsky," I say haughtily, tossing my head back and giving him my best Bitch Please Look, "we're not going to stop being in love just because your only love interest is food."

"You little-" his fist swings back and there's a tug on my side and Blaine is dragging me back. We both run until we're safely near Principal Figgin's office. Blaine pulls my chin to the side so I stop staring at the tiles on the hallway and stare at him.

"Kurt, are you okay?" he asks.

"You're the one with slushie all over your face," I say, lifting my hand to wipe the syrup out of his eyes. I sigh a little bit. "Rachel's running for class president too," I sniff. "I can't believe she's just going to ignore everything we said. We promised we'd support each other! And here she is, coming between me and my dream, again."

"Kurt," Blaine sighs and takes me into his arms, "I know you're going to win, and more importantly, you know you're going to win. So what does it matter if Brittany and Rachel run against you? What does it matter if every single girl in the school ran against you? You're still going to win!"

I sniff, look up at Blaine, and grin. "Yeah, I guess I did sound pretty stupid," I say. If he can hear me, it'll be a miracle, since his ridiculous bowtie is swallowing all my words.

"Besides," Blaine says while petting my hair, "you'll always have Chino."

"Ugh," I pull away from Blaine's chest. "Don't remind me that I have to kill you onstage."

* * *

><p><em>Thanks for being patient with me, guys. I know these updates are really sporadic and more or less crappy. Mia and I have decided not to see each other until we can figure out where we are, and it freaking hurts a lot.<em>

_Okay, next time, it's opening night because I **need** to so something plot-like._


	3. Crossfire

_I said there would be plot here, and there is now plot. I've once again taken a few prompts from the glee angst meme and fused them together to form a (hopefully) coherent story. I'll put the prompts up later._

_In the middle, there will be a line break without a name, and that's because it's in Kurt's POV. I didn't want to break the flow of the story by writing Kurt's name twice, so I didn't._

_Disclaimer: I don't own the song "Crossfire" by Brandon Flowers._

* * *

><p>"<em>Heartache and pain came a-pouring down<br>__Like hail, sleet and rain, yeah, they're handing it out  
><em>_And we're caught up in the crossfire of Heaven and Hell  
>And we're searching for shelter<br>__Lay your body down  
>Lay your body down<br>Lay your body down"_

Chapter III: Crossfire

**Blaine**

I don't know why I'm not more excited that it's opening night. But no one needs to know, and seeing as this is a private dressing room, I don't expect to see anyone and therefore drop my makeup container when I hear a "Hi."

"Kurt, what are you doing in here?" I ask. I can't help the blush that spreads across my face.

"Well, I wanted the opportunity to see you without your shirt on," Kurt blushes, and as his blood rushes to his face, my blood rushes to my nether regions. "So, are you ready yet?"

"Almost," I cap my lipstick. "Which foundation do you think I should use?" I hold up two containers. I already know the answer, of course, but I can tell that Kurt's uncomfortable, and this would be the perfect opportunity to cheer him up.

"This one," he points to the olive container, so I unscrew the cap. I can see his fingers brushing over the other container, and I realize with some guilt that it's the kind that would fit Kurt's skin perfectly.

"I'm sorry, Kurt," I say. Even his neutral expression is marred by slightly downturned lips.

"Sorry for what?" Kurt's voice is unnaturally happy.

"That they didn't give you the role," I turn his head so that we're looking each other in the eye.

"You got the role," Kurt says. "I'm happy. You deserved it."

"So would you," I reply. "That's why I want you to be my understudy. If I suddenly get too short for the role or if I slip and fall-"

"Blaine, you jump on furniture like you're about to crush rabid squirrels on it."

"I would never crush a squirrel1 Squirrels are cute!"

"So are you," Kurt kisses me, and we don't talk until Rachel calls us out. Showtime!

Everything goes as well as can be expected. I sing and dance like I'm crushing rabid squirrels, and Rachel sings and dances like she's drunk.

"Come, get me too!" Tony yells at Chino. Chino's fingers tighten over the gun as Tony runs over to Maria. I nod at Kurt. He can "shoot" me. I don't care if I ruin this scene, but I'm not doing more than falling peacefully.

BANG!

Wait a minute. That's not right. Something comes down hard on the skin of my ribcage like a hammer. I feel the explosion of my rib breaking and gag. My chest burns with pain. My eyes water. My nasal passages are clogged with mucus and I have to breathe through my mouth, bracing myself for agony with every lung expansion, but I still can't make myself breath shallowly, or slow the panicked, heavy pants that sound like sobs. A hand wipes a tear from my flushed cheek and caresses my hair. Kurt. I lean into him and try to relax. If I relax, I'll breathe less harshly.

When a black veil slips over my vision, it occurs to me that I might have tried to relax too hard.

* * *

><p><strong>Kurt<strong>

Blaine Anderson is the absolutely most stubborn person who's ever lived! He keeps telling everyone that an ambulance isn't necessary, that he's not that hurt. What would he consider being hurt, decapitation? Ugh, I have blood on my clothes, and my costume is already ripped and filthy.

When the EMTs get here, one of them says, "Will anybody be riding with him?"

"Me," I say, almost ready to climb in after him. Coach Beiste's hand lands on my shoulder. Does she know that this shirt is Prada?

"You can't go on, Kurt," she tells me. "You're Blaine's understudy."

"I'll ride with him," Artie wheels himself up to the ambulance. "You have to go onstage and play Tony now."

I freeze. Yes, I wanted to get the role of Tony—my eyes fall on the bloody stain on the stage and shudder—but not like this.

"Come on, Kurt," Mike says kindly, reaching out for my hand. I'm pretty sure my eyes are the size of saucers, which does not flatter my face. Oh, Gaga, why do I care? Okay, if Blaine makes it out of this okay, I will pray to Katy Perry—ugh!—instead of Lady Gaga.

"Um, Kurt?" Miss Pillsbury says when she picks up the stage prop. "This gun smells like gunpowder."

"So?" I ask.

"Stage guns aren't supposed to have gunpowder in them," Miss Pillsbury's words cause me to fill with dread, or a suddenly spike in blood pressure. "Gunpowder explosions can cause serious injuries."

Miss Pillsbury opens the gun and I smell the gunpowder. Then I get angry.

"Why didn't anyone check the prop?" I yell.

"I-I don't know," Miss Pillsbury shrugs.

"How could you not know? You guys are in charge of the props!" I yell.

"I put the football team in charge of props," says Coach Beiste..

"Oh my gosh," I say. I remember Karofsky's ridiculous threat and storm out of the room. Rachel puts her hands on my shoulder and I shake her off before storming out. I know how to exit a room better than Rachel Berry, don't doubt it.

* * *

><p>"I can't believe you!" I walked up to Karofsky, ready to swing.<p>

"Sure you want to hit me, Hummel? I'll put you in the hospital."

"You mean like how you put Blaine in the hospital?" hell hath no fury like a fashionista scorned.

"Whoa," Karofsky has the nerve to put his hands up. "What are you talking about, Hummel?"

"Blaine's stage gun was loaded with real gunpowder, and I know the football team was responsible for the props," I say. I'm actually kind of proud of my sleuthing skills.

Karofsky looks confused. "What? I thought gunpowder was what people put in cannons."

I'm speechless. Does Karofsky really not know what gunpowder is? And wait, I'm supposed to be threatening. "You have today, Karofsky," I tell him. "You have today to convince me you didn't do anything, or I'll tell Coach Beiste."

"There's nothing to tell," Karofsky shrugs. "Your little fair-your boyfriend probably did it himself."

Okay, all this blood-draining-out-of-my-face-thing is doing **nothing** for my moisturizing routine. "What are you talking about?"

"Haven't you heard him? He's always talking about how upset you are that you didn't get the role and whether or not he could fake getting sick," Karofsky says this so casually, I am horrified. How long have I been making Blaine upset? Oh my Gaga, I have to go to the hospital! I turn around and run from the locker room like a bat out of hell.

Come to think of it, that's not really a bad metaphor.

* * *

><p><strong>Blaine<strong>

The official diagnosis? I have a button in my lung. And it's an ugly shade of brown. It's not even a pretty pink one! Above me, I hear a snort. Apparently, I just said that out loud.

"Mother, if you're recording my coming-out-of-morphine babble, you better hide the tape somewhere I can easily reach and burn it."

"Oh, you'll have to catch me first," Mother says, putting down the camera. Just then, Kurt comes storms into the room and immediately starts yelling.

"How could you do that to yourself?" he's very, very angry.

"Do what to myself?"I'm confused.

"Load the gun with gunpowder!" Kurt wailed. "You've hurt yourself!"

"I didn't do that," I say, completely confused. "Why on Earth would I ever do that?"

"Because you wanted to give me the role. Blaine, I'm incredibly flattered, but you didn't have to go do this!"

My brain is foggy and not completely functioning, but I know that I didn't do what Kurt's accusing me of. "Kurt, I didn't touch the stage gun, I swear. Someone else messed with it and I got caught in the crossfire."

Kurt starts crying. "Then I don't know who did," he sounds very sad.

"Why was there gunpowder anyway?" Mother sounds incredibly angry. "Don't the teachers know how dangerous that is?"

I shrug and white-hot pain lances through my torso, clearing the last of the morphine-induced haze out of my brain. I must make some kind of noise, because Kurt looks distressed, and Mother reaches for the red button to give me more morphine. I put my hand over it to stop her.

"Don't be so masochistic, Blaine," Mother chides me.

"I want my brain working," I say. "Someone sabotaged me. Who's to say they won't do that to Kurt too?" I look at Kurt anxiously after I speak, just to make sure he's still there.

* * *

><p><em>There should only be about two more chapters before this wraps up. It's going to deal with the mystery, which I haven't figured out yet, so don't read too much into things.<em>


	4. The Light

_Well, it's been a really long time, but there's this chapter, and I've written most of the next chapter, which will be the last one._

_Disclaimer: I don't own the song "The Light" by Sara Bareilles, although I have slow-danced to it multiple times._

* * *

><p><em>"And if you say 'I'll be alright,'<br>I'm gonna trust you, babe,  
>I'm gonna look in your eyes.<br>And if you say, 'It'll be alright,'  
>I'll follow you into the light."<em>

Chapter IV: The Light

**Kurt**

Miss Pillsbury opens the gun and I smell the gunpowder. Then I get angry.

"Why didn't anyone check the prop?" I yell.

"I-I don't know," Miss Pillsbury shrugs.

"How could you not know? You guys are in charge of the props!" I yell.

"I put the football team in charge of props," says Coach Beiste..

"Oh my gosh," I say. I remember Karofsky's ridiculous threat and storm out of the room. Rachel puts her hands on my shoulder and I shake her off before storming out. I know how to exit a room better than Rachel Berry, don't doubt it.

* * *

><p>"I can't believe you!" I walked up to Karofsky, ready to swing.<p>

"Sure you want to hit me, Hummel? I'll put you in the hospital."

"You mean like how you put Blaine in the hospital?" hell hath no fury like a fashionista scorned.

"Whoa," Karofsky has the nerve to put his hands up. "What are you talking about, Hummel?"

"Blaine's stage gun was loaded with real gunpowder, and I know the football team was responsible for the props," I say. I'm actually kind of proud of my sleuthing skills.

Karofsky looks confused. "What? I thought gunpowder was what people put in cannons."

I'm speechless. Does Karofsky really not know what gunpowder is? And wait, I'm supposed to be threatening. "You have today, Karofsky," I tell him. "You have today to convince me you didn't do anything, or I'll tell Coach Beiste."

"There's nothing to tell," Karofsky shrugs. "Your little fair-your boyfriend probably did it himself."

Okay, all this blood-draining-out-of-my-face-thing is doing **nothing** for my moisturizing routine. "What are you talking about?"

"Haven't you heard him? He's always talking about how upset you are that you didn't get the role and whether or not he could fake getting sick," Karofsky says this so casually, I am horrified. How long have I been making Blaine upset? Oh my Gaga, I have to go to the hospital! I turn around and run from the locker room like a bat out of hell.

Come to think of it, that's not really a bad metaphor.

* * *

><p><strong>Blaine<strong>

The official diagnosis? I have a button in my lung. And it's an ugly shade of brown. It's not even a pretty pink one! Above me, I hear a snort. Apparently, I just said that out loud.

"Mother, if you're recording my coming-out-of-morphine babble, you better hide the tape somewhere I can easily reach and burn it."

"Oh, you'll have to catch me first," Mother says, putting down the camera. Just then, Kurt comes storms into the room and Mother almost—but not quite—drops and breaks the camera. Damn.

"How could you do that to yourself?" he's very, very angry.

"Do what to myself?"I'm confused.

"Load the gun with gunpowder!" Kurt wailed. "You've hurt yourself!"

"I didn't do that," I say, completely confused. "Why on Earth would I ever do that?"

"Because you wanted to give me the role. Blaine, I'm incredibly flattered, but you didn't have to go do this!"

My brain is foggy and not completely functioning, but I know that I didn't do what Kurt's accusing me of. "Kurt, I didn't touch the stage gun, I swear."

Kurt starts crying. "Then I don't know who did," he sounds very sad.

"Why was there gunpowder anyway?"Mother sounds incredibly angry. "Don't the teachers know how dangerous that is?"

I shrug and white-hot pain lances through my torso, clearing the last of the morphine-induced haze out of my brain. I must make some kind of noise, because Kurt looks distressed, and Mother reaches for the red button to give me more morphine. I put my hand over it to stop her.

"Don't be so masochistic, Blaine," Mother chides me.

"I want my brain working," I say. "Someone sabotaged me. Who's to say they won't do that to Kurt too?" I look at Kurt anxiously after I speak, just to make sure he's still there.

"Oh, come on," Kurt snorts. "I'm not going to fall apart just because you weren't looking at me for a second."

I look away and tears are in my eyes before I know what's going on. "Sorry," I croak. "I won't look at you anymore."

Kurt draws me into his arms. "Blaine, that's not what I meant," he chides me, "but if your mother's watching me, I should be safe, and maybe we can catch the culprit together."

Mother looks thoughtful and more or less happy. "You know," she says thoughtfully, "that might just work."

* * *

><p><strong>Rachel<strong>

"He's still not here?"

"Rachel, his boyfriend's in the hospital," Mercedes says before walking away, upset.

Kurt is being so unprofessional! One of the buttons on my costume has fallen off, and he's only worried about someone who's not in the play! He's the lead! He should be worrying about his lines and his voice.

Oh, where is that button?

"Is something wrong?" Blaine's mother comes in and asks.

"I'm missing a button off my dress," I tell her. I emphasize the importance of this with my emphatic hand gestures and expressive facial expressions.

"Alright," she says agreeably. "What does this button look like?"

I show her a picture, and her eyes widen. "Oh no," she groans. "Rachel, your button fell in Kurt's prop gun."

"What? Oh, no, I take far too good care of my props for that to happen," I tell her confidently. "It can't be **my** button."

Miss Rush pulls out a bag. I can see that inside is a piece of crumpled white plastic that's flecked with gold. "Oh my gosh," I say. "That's my button, and it's covered in…" I bring my hand closer to it, "blood."

"Blaine's blood," Miss Rush says softly. "He bled so much, I had to give him some of mine, and even then, it was almost too late."

My eyes snap up to meet hers. "You mean, he almost died?"

She turns away. "You were careless," she says as she leaves. "I hope you start considering people other than yourself at some point, otherwise your life is going to be very lonely," she says.

Hmph! What does she know? She doesn't have my talent. With my talent, people will soon be begging for a chance to prove themselves worthy of my friendship and falling at my feet. Still, as I put the baggie with the button bullet down on my make-up desk, an unwelcome thought creeps into my head: I hope they don't fall down bleeding.

* * *

><p><em>The next chapter will be the last one, guys. Blurt will find out about the button, Kurt will freak the hell out, and everyone forgives each other by opening night number two.<em>


	5. If Everyone Cared

_I lied. I do that a lot, don't I? First, this doesn't follow the order of the episodes anymore. Second, this isn't the last chapter. In fact, I have no idea when this story will be over. You'll understand when you finish the chapter._

_I forgot the disclaimer in the last chapter, but I've fixed it now. I also forgot to add the bar between the switch between Rachel's POV to Blaine's. Thanks, OhMyGlee55 for pointing that out. -facepalm- Embarrassing..._

_Disclaimer: I don't own the song "If Everyone Cared" by Nickelback._

* * *

><p><em> "If everyone cared and nobody cried,<em>  
><em>If everyone loved and nobody lied,<em>  
><em>If everyone shared and swallowed their pride,<em>  
><em>Then we'd see the day when nobody died."<em>

Chapter V: If Everyone Cared

**Rachel**

"Is something wrong?" asks Kurt. "You're not usually this quiet."

I shrug and keep walking, so Kurt leaves me alone. Most unfortunately, I run directly into Blaine. Immediately, I begin to apologize.

"Blaine Warbler, I never meant for that button to almost kill you, I promise. I think I simply misplaced it, and it fell in the gun."

"What are you talking about?" Blaine asks.

"Y-your mother said that she had to give you a blood transfusion, or you would have died because of my button," I say, so confused that I ignore the footsteps that stop abruptly at the other end of the hallway. "Was she wrong?"

"IT WAS YOUR BUTTON?" roars someone behind me.

* * *

><p><strong>Blaine<strong>

"Goddammit!" someone else graons. I turn to see Kurt leading his father out of the Glee room and Blaine's mother covering her eyes and muttering curses.

"I am going to kill her!" Mother and I hold Kurt back from the door that Burt Hummel is hurriedly trying to close. "The self-centered bitch!"

"Kurt, as satisfactory as hurting someone who hurts a loved one is—and believe me, I know—it never ends as well as forgiveness," Mother says. She winces. "I should take my own, terrible advice."

"Hey, kid, listen to what the nice lady says, okay?" Burt tells his son.

Kurt lets out a stream of words I don't consider polite for company, but eventually Burt calms him down, and he's no longer struggling. Mother lets go, but I keep my hand on him, although it moves from his shoulder to his hand, and he grips mine tightly.

"I will never let that happen to you again," he promises fiercely.

I smile. "I know you won't, Kurt," I say. "I love you," I remind him.

He smiles back. "I love you too." He leans in for a kiss. Mother coos, Burt clears his throat awkwardly.

"I'm going to get some coffee," he mutters.

"One cream, four sugars!" Mother calls after him. She turns to me. "So, Blaine, do you want to sue the school? Believe me, I have the clout to make some major changes at the school, if you want to go down that route."

I'm stumped. On one hand, I don't want to paint Kurt and myself as bigger targets that we already are. On the other, McKinley can use a few changes. Unwilling to do this on my own, I turn to Kurt. "What do you think, Kurt?" I ask.

Kurt shrugs. "It's not my decision," he evades my gaze. Looking away, I can tell that he doesn't want to make waves. I turn back to my mother, answer firm in my mind.

* * *

><p><strong>Artie<strong>

"That was wonderful, you guys!" Miss Pillsbury cheers and claps politely.

"Are you kidding?" Coach Beiste turns from her to Kurt and Rachel. "You two, that was terrible! I know you're gay," she looks at Kurt, "and you're dating the quarterback, but you two still have to pretend to be in love."

"Think about your first times," I suggest, "and how you felt."

Kurt and Rachel look at each other, and I would jump out of my seat if my legs work. "How can you two possibly act like lovers when neither of you have ever, well, loved?" I ask them, hands on my hips.

Kurt just sighs.

* * *

><p><strong>Pearl (Blaine's mother)<strong>

He thinks I'm angry with him. I'm not, but I am disappointed. I've tried to instill values of pro-activism, but his passiveness seems to have been beaten too deeply into him.

Sure enough, a meek voice tells me, "I'm sorry, Mother," and I sigh.

"Blaine, I'm not mad, really. I just wish you'd be more assertive. You let people walk all over you," I chastise him. "If you want something, you have to reach for it. No one's going to hand you anything. And yes, sometimes when you reach, you'll knock people out of the way and they'll get angry. It's in evitable, and unavoidable. I'm not saying you should be Rachel Berry, but just be aware that your noncommittal attitude and hands-off approach to life will dump you in the streets. You can't just go with the flow all the time; once in a while you'll have to fight against the current." I turn my rearview mirror to that I can see him. "But you already knew that, didn't you?" I smile at him. "Bullied, terrified, sold, but you never let yourself become a victim. And you know why? Because you saw the love that you wanted to experience for yourself, and you reached for it. You pulled light into your dark world. You saved yourself."

Finally, Blaine is smiling back at me. "Thanks, Mother."

"Why? You already knew this!"

* * *

><p><strong>Kurt<strong>

"Come on, Kurt, who cares what other people think? I really want you."

"No, Blaine!" I pull away roughly, and when Blaine tries to come up with me, I push him back.

"Why are you being so mean to me?" he glares.

"I have never felt less like being intimate with someone!" I yell. "You're drunk, and I just watched you dancing all night with another boy!"

Blaine stands up and walks past me.

"Where are you going?" I demand.

"I think I'm just going to walk home," Blaine says, hands in his pockets as he leaves.

"Blaine!" I call after him. He doesn't answer, so I slam my car door closed and cry. Lady Gaga, why does he have to be so stubborn! He's never been this pushy before! My phone buzzes and I pick it up eagerly, only to realize that it's not Blaine, but Finn.

_Dude, Rachel's being weird. Do you know what's going on?_

I ignore it and dial Blaine. Unsurprisingly, he ignores my call. Sighing, I dial the only other person I think will pick up Blaine at this hour.

"Hello, Ms. Rush? It's Kurt. I think you're son's drunk."

"Are you kidding? He promised!" there's an exasperated sigh. At least she's not throwing a fit; my dad would have had a heart attack by now. "Well, how much did he drink?" she asks resignedly.

"He says he only had one drink," I tell her. Wait, that doesn't sound right. "He was stumbling around a lot."

The silence on the other end grows more and more tense, until finally she says, "I'll call you back. Thank you for telling me this, Kurt," and hangs up. Huh, I wonder what that was all about.

* * *

><p><strong>Pearl<strong>

HE IS GOING TO DIE! I WILL GROUND HIM UNTIL THE END OF TIME!

Well, I will until he gives me those puppy-dog eyes again. At the very least, he'll be grounded for the rest of the semester, or the rest of the month. Maybe I'll just take away his phone. Goddammit, just thinking about his puppy-dog eyes won't let me punish him.

"He's only had one drink. He was stumbling around a lot."

I'm already out of my driveway before I think to tell Kurt goodbye and hang up. Then I drive around, looking for Blaine and thinking of who I have to call when I find his body, so that they can give me alibis, screw up evidence, and just generally prove that I didn't kill whoever killed my son.

But when I do find him, naked and moving weakly under a certain boy who is definitely not Kurt, my anger, guilt, and regret overwhelm any and all foresight I possess.

"GET THE FUCK OUT FROM UNDER THAT BOY, BLAINE!"

* * *

><p><em>Yeah, this is probably going to drag on for a while. If you guys have read any of my other fics, you'll know that people get sexually attacked a LOT. Also, I might as well announce it on here first: I am going to bring back Sam (after I killed him in <span>The Killers<span>) in compliance with canon. Yes, I've only just learned that Chord Overstreet is coming back._


	6. Set Fire to the Rain

_Yes, ladies and gentlemen, it's Chapter 6. Three guesses what my radio is playing right now. That being said, I can't believe I haven't already upped this story's rating, since the end of the last chapter is so not K+._

_Disclaimer: I don't own the song "Set Fire to the Rain" by Adele._

* * *

><p><em>"There's a side to you<br>That I never knew, never knew.  
>All the things you'd say,<br>They were never true, never true.  
>And the games you'd play,<br>you would always win, always win."_

Chapter VI: Set Fire to the Rain

**Kurt**

I pace back and forth around the living room until the phone finally rings, which does nothing for my worry and frown lines. "Hello?" I whisper breathlessly into it.

"Hey, Kurt," it's Dad, not Pearl.

Any other occasion I'd be happy, but right now I just give an exasperated sigh. "What do you want, Dad?" I ask glumly.

"What's wrong?" Dad asks, immediately making me feel guilty.

"Uh, nothing," I say, not wanting to give false information. "Just…Blaine did something stupid and Pearl's gone to pick him up."

"Okay," Dad trails off just in time for me to hear a car parking outside.

"Dad, somebody's coming into the driveway," I say. "I have to go."

"Be careful," he tells me.

I scoff. "Let them try," I say confidently, grabbing my pom-poms. They hurt if you throw them the right way, and believe me, after a couple verbal spars with Santana, I can throw them the right way.

But I don't need to throw them, because it's Pearl, and she's got Blaine in her arms, and there's blood, and she's crying, and Blaine's barely moving.

"Kurt," she sobs, "your house is closer than mine. I need your help. I fucked up. I fucked up bad."

It wasn't until I realized that Blaine's eyes were glazed and he was barely moving that I realized he might not be fully participating in this venture, whatever the hell this venture was.

* * *

><p><strong>Pearl (a few minutes earlier)<strong>

"Stop staring, you pervert!" the boy on top of him yells.

"Get off my son, you pervert!" I scream back.

He runs off. I'm too upset to think about his name, choosing instead to focus on my son.

"Blaine, Blaine, are you okay?" I ask anxiously.

He looks up at me blearily. "Mother," he gasps weakly, reaching for me. Unbidden, I remember the Blaine of the other world, dying from stab wounds, but still trying to stem the bleeding from a simple cut his father inflicted on me.

"Blaine, I'm so sorry. I am so sorry," I start to tear up, but no, I have to approach this with a law enforcement perspective, not a maternal one, or I'll be useless. I have to keep my emotions in check. "Alright, Blaine, I'm going to pick you up, okay?" He doesn't react, so I flip him over as gently as I can and see the stain on the front of his pants, noting the lack of ammonia in the air with some level of detachment.

Blaine doesn't look astonished when I move him, but he does hiss a little. I ask him what hurts and how to alleviate it, but all he can say is, "I screwed up, Mother. I screwed up bad. I screwed up Kurt. I screwed up bad."

He repeats those three sentences until I'm about ready to drive my car directly off the road, or into another car.

* * *

><p><strong>Kurt<strong>

"Are you sure he only had one drink?" Pearl is frantically running around. "Where are your parents and Finn?"

"Finn's on a date with Rachel and Dad and Carole are somewhere celebrating his election," I answer, heart in my throat. "What are you looking for?"

"A syringe," she answers. "Wait, I have one," she reaches into her purse and pulls out a needle. I swear, that woman has everything in her bag except the kitchen sink.

Behind me, Blaine's muttering something, and I wonder what's going on. Pearl has me hold Blaine's arm still as she ties a rubber tube around it, rubs brown liquid across the skin, and inserts the needle in his elbow to draw blood. He howls, and it's so loud that I wince. Thank goodness my parents aren't home right now.

Pearl turns to Blaine with a worried expression. "He never does this," she mutters.

"Never does what?" I ask.

"Never lets anyone know how much he's hurting. Alcohol would make him express pain less, not more," her eyes get wide and she snatches Blaine from my arms and back into her car before I can ask what that means.

* * *

><p><strong>(Lima Hospital Records)<strong>

PATIENT NAME: BLAINE CAINE-RUSH

AGE: 18 YRS.

EYE COLOR: BROWN

HEIGHT: 5 FT. 6 IN.

TIME OF ADMITTANCE: 12:01 AM, 12/17/2011

REASON FOR ADMITTANCE: POSS. DRUG OVERDOSE, SUS. SEXUAL ASSAULT

ADD. DETAILS: PATIENT TESTED POSITIVE FOR OVERDOSE OF GHB. PATIENT EXHIBITED SIGNS OF TRAUMA AND APPARENT BRUISING AROUND ABDOMINAL AREA. POSSIBLE PHYSICAL ASSAULT. SUSPECTED ABUSE. PATIENT'S MOTHER ARRESTED AND QUESTIONED.

* * *

><p><strong>Blaine<strong>

Mother is yelling at me, which means I must have done something awful. I always do this. I always screw up. Today, I drove Kurt away. Today, I made Mother yell at me. I am a horrible person. I even cheated on Kurt. There's proof of it all over the front of my pants. Mother is witness to my most terrible moment.

Now she's leaving. Please, Mother, please don't leave. I'm sorry. I'll do anything. Just please come back. I scream for her, scream for her to come back. I'm screaming.

She's screaming too, now. She's screaming at me, screaming my name. No, wait, she's not screaming at me, she's screaming for me. I scream for her too, but she leaves. She goes away.

I screwed up bad, Mother. I screwed up so bad. I screwed up Kurt. I screwed up bad.

* * *

><p><strong>Detective Brianna Sai (remember her?)<strong>

I freeze when I see Pearl in the interrogation room. "Guys, what the hell is she doing in here?"

"Her son's in the hospital," Det. Bef tells me. "The hospital officials won't let her near him. They think she's the one who hurt him."

"Well, damn," I shake my head. "I can't believe these people. Don't they know that having his mother beside him is the thing Blaine needs most right now?"

Det. Bef looks at me. "What if she really did hurt him?" she asks seriously. "I mean, Blaine is used to being treated like the worst of the worst. He'd probably consider being treated the best of the worst as something good."

I hesitate a second. "What are you looking at?" I ask finally.

She shows me the screen with Pearl's arrest records. "She used to be a drug mule?"

"She was a member of the Fauna," Det. Sai says seriously.

I stand up straighter. "Somebody should alert the Indiana Bureau of Investigation."

"Already done, Brianna," says Adla when I leave the desk. Any second now, the state's going to save Blaine from his unstable mother. I know I've made the right choice. But why does it feel so wrong?

* * *

><p><strong>Blaine<strong>

The first things I notice when I wake up are the pains in my head and…rear. The second thing I notice, and this is because I actually open my eyes, is that I'm alone. I wonder how tired my mother must have been to actually leave when the doctors want her to. Then I see that the clock says it's past 9:00 am. Visiting hours began an hour ago.

I curl up and press my face against the pillow. Ever since she adopted me, I wondered how long it would take Ms. Rush to realize I wasn't good enough to be her son. Now, it seems that I've reached that point. Still, expecting it doesn't make it hurt any less, and I try my best to muffle my sobs into the pillow when the doctor comes in.

"Blaine!" he calls cheerfully. "I'm glad you're awake. I'm Dr. Ellen Fawhinki, and I want to make sure you're okay."

I swallow. "Did you see my mother?" I ask. "She brought me in; did you speak to her?"

Dr. Fawhinki's face darkens. "Yes, and I called the police. She won't hurt you again, sweetheart," she promises.

"No, no!" I try to hide under the blankets. "You don't understand! She didn't hurt me, she saved me from being hurt."

"You don't have to speak up for her," Dr. Fawhinki says, pointing to the numerous scars on my body. "These scars speak for themselves, Blaine."

I wrench my arm out of her grasp. "No, no, the Andersons gave me those," I yell. "She got me out of the house. She saved me from them!" I can't help it; I start to cry.

"What are you talking about?" Dr. Fawhinki asks.

"She saved my life," I say quietly. I tell her the tale of how the Andersons had used me, how Pearl had gotten me away from them, and Dr. Fawhinki grows quiet.

"You're the boy I read about on the news," she says quietly. "I can't believe it; **you're** that boy?"

"Yes," I say, still shaking with sobs. "Please, please, please, get her back for me!"

"Yes, of course," she sighs and leaves me with nothing but silence for company. I start to cry.

* * *

><p><strong>Pearl<strong>

"Have you ever physically punished Blaine Anderson?" Det. Bef asks.

"What? No!" I almost jump out of my seat. "How can you ask me that?"

"You're a single mother," Det. Bef draws back. "I understand that you're stressed, and it doesn't matter if you let that stress out around Blaine. No matter how you treat him, it's probably better than how he used to be treated."

I don't know what expression is on my face right now, only that it's terrifying enough for Adla to flinch and take a step back. "I want my lawyer."

Adla sniffs, but she leaves to give me privacy. I pull out my phone. "Hello, is this Mr. Berry of Berry, Abbott, and Loyola Law Firm? Yeah, it's Pearl Rush, and I need a favor."

* * *

><p><strong>Rachel<strong>

I'm in the middle of practice when I overhear Daddy on the phone. "I'm an ACLU lawyer," he says. I beam. I have the best dads in the world! "I take on discrimination cases." There's a pause. "Uh-huh, oh, I see. Yes, that could certainly be problematic. And of course I understand. Yes, I'll tell her. Uh-huh, I'm on my way there now." He hangs up and doesn't look at all surprised to see me outside the door.

"Rachel, honey, I'm going to the police station to pick up Blaine's mother and get her to the hospital, alright?" he kisses me on the cheek and reaches for his coat, which I had to him with a hug. I sigh when he leaves. I have the best dads in the world.

* * *

><p><strong>Kurt<strong>

Normally, if Rachel were to call me in the middle of my moisturizing routine, I would hang up on her. But last night's events left me shaken so I put down my powder pad and pick up my phone. "Yes, Rachel?"

"My dad wants you to know that Blaine's in the hospital."

And just like that, I forget my routine and run out the door. After competing with a police car (and letting it pass once I see Pearl and Det. Bef in it) I finally arrive and sign in.

"Kurt Hummel," I tell the doctor. "I'm here to see Blaine Anderson."

"Only family is allowed right now," says the doctor. Upon closer inspection, her nametag says "Ellen Fawhinki."

"I don't suppose you'll buy my story that I'm his cousin?" I ask dully.

She shakes her head and I turn away. "Oh, hold on," she says just before I'm about to go grab Rachel and pretend she's his sister. "You're on the list of permitted visitors," she tells me.

* * *

><p><em>Oh dear, what's Kurt going to find when he enters? Hint: it's nothing good. Also, continuing with my habit of naming minor characters after major reviewers, Ellen Fawhinki (fall-hing-key) is an anagram of finchelklaine and the 23rd letter of the alphabet (W, for those of you who don't know).<em>

_Next time, things get worse. Yes, they get worse. But then they get better in the chapter after the next one, so keep your head up, guys!_


	7. New Morning

_Seriously how awesome was the Criss brothers' version of this song? I wish I lived in New York again...and had $100 at my disposal._

_Disclaimer: I don't own the song "A New Morning," by Bob Dylan, nor did I cover it like Darren and Chuck Criss. I only own a youtube account to watch their cover over...and over...and over...and over again. I also don't own the Criminal Minds 5th season episode "Risky Business," which Pearl references in the end._

* * *

><p><em>"So happy just to be alive<br>Underneath the sky of blue  
>On this new morning, new morning<br>On this new morning with you  
>New morning..."<em>

Chapter VII: A New Morning

**Kurt**

Other than a surprised squeak of "Really?" I don't waste any time running inside and taking Blaine's unoccupied hand in mine. Pearl's holding the other one. Both of us have our eyes focused on him, willing him to please, please, please wake up now. The tension in the air grows thicker with every second, and every so often, I flick my eyes up at Blaine's mother. I understand that she's probably in shock from the sight of her son like this, but she's way too still. Then again, she might just be distancing herself from the boy she blames for all this. After all, if I didn't leave Blaine, he wouldn't be in this situation, whatever situation it is.

Just when I think the tension can't get any heavier, Pearl asks me—so softly I almost don't hear her—"What happened, Kurt, before you called me?"

I swallow. How am I supposed to answer that? "Um, we were both at Scandals, and Sebastian got him a beer."

She turns toward me so fast, I'm afraid she'll get whiplash. "You two went to a gay **bar** and **drank**?"

"Um, well, like I said, Blaine only had one drink, so-" she glares at me murderously and my voice dies in my throat. As she lays into me for fifteen minutes, all I can think is, _At least she's freaked out over the "bar" part and not the "gay" part._

* * *

><p><strong>Blaine<strong>

My head hurts so badly when I open my eyes that for a few minutes, I consider never opening them again. And then I hear, above the blood rushing to my head, my mother's voice. It grows louder, until I realize she's yelling, but I can't discern any of her words. I just know I've made her mad and start to cry. I never thought I would disappoint her like this.

"Mother!" I cry, covering my ears. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!"

Mother puts one hand around either of mine and pulls on them. I start to panic harder, and Mother lets go. Slowly, I relax and she gently tilts my chin up until I'm looking at her decidedly not-angry eyes.

"I love you, and I'm sorry I upset you."

I sniffle, ashamed at my own tears. "But…I disappointed you. I went to a bar. I had a drink."

Mother rolls her eyes. "Yes, and you ended up in the hospital with respiratory collapse. I think the words, 'Let this be a lesson to you' are a tad redundant at this juncture."

I hear Kurt snicker, and when I turn to look at him blankly, he says, "Buffy reference." When I continue to stare at him oddly, he attempts to explain, "Giles?" I suppose my look of confusion stays on my face, because his jaw drops and he looks at me with nothing less than complete shock on his face. "You've never watched 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer?'"

I shake my head. To my other side, Mother gasps.

Kurt makes an upset noise, which means that my state of ignorance will not persist for very long. "Well, as soon as you get out of that hospital bed, I'm going to educate you."

"**We** are going to educate you," Mother corrects. "No son of mine is going to grow up not knowing and loving the Slayer."

The doctor comes in and asks to talk to my mother privately, She tosses a stern "be good" look to Kurt and leaves us.

"Are you okay, Blaine?" Kurt's kind eyes peer down at me. "You…panicked."

I shake my head. "She's got to be so mad at me," I whimper.

Kurt sighs. "She's mad at me," he admits. "I didn't keep you from going into the bar or taking that drink from Sebastian."

Oh god, Sebastian.

My face must turn three shades of pale, because Kurt looks at me with no small amount of concern. "Blaine, is something wrong?" he asks gently peeling my hands off my face.

I can't keep the tears out of my eyes when I tell him, but I have to tell him. "Kurt, I cheated on you," I say.

Kurt immediately freezes, then licks his lips and stares at me. "What?"

I squeeze my eyes shut. "I had sex with Sebastian. I'm so sorry. I was drunk."

Kurt throws my hands on the bed as hard as he can. "How could you do this to me?' he yells, storming out.

With him gone, the room is far too empty and I draw the blanket about my chest. I'm alone.

* * *

><p><strong>Kurt<strong>

I don't acknowledge the strange looks the doctor and Blaine's mother give me as I leave. Screw them. Screw the world. I don't need anyone but myself anyway. But when I get to the pay phone outside, I still cry when I ask Finn to pick me up. There's no way I can drive with the way I'm crying and shaking. He comes around fifteen minutes later, looking uncomfortable. We drive in relative silence until he finally clears his throat and asks, "So, um, do you want me to punch him or something?"

I shake my head. "No, Finn, it wouldn't make a difference."

Finn nods, and when he turns to the road again, he's smiling, his brotherly duties satisfied. But my heart isn't satisfied.

* * *

><p><strong>Finn<strong>

Kurt's quiet the whole ride home, which is weird for him, and I even turned to that opera radio station he likes. When we get home, he throws me a quiet, "Thanks," and goes to his room.

Dang, he must be pissed. I call up Rachel so I can talk to her about how to deal with Kurt; he might be my brother, but believe me, she knows him way better than I do, or so she's always telling me.

One "Oh my gosh, I have to tell Mercedes," later, I'm staring up at the ceiling listening to my brother crying with no more answers than I had earlier.

For some reason, when I get to Glee the next day, everyone knows about the breakup. Kurt's pissed at me. I have no idea why. It's not like I told them.

* * *

><p><strong>Pearl<strong>

I meet Dr. Chinfabik outside the room. She looks at me oddly, and I explain that I left because my son seems to be afraid of me and I thought his boyfriend could calm him down. She says something I would never in a thousand years have expected to hear.

"He might not be afraid of you, particularly."

"What are you talking about?" I ask.

"Blaine had over 100 milligrams per liter of gamma-hydrooxybutyric acid in his blood, which is an extremely dangerous amount of GHB."

"The date-rape drug?" my head spins.

"I'm afraid so," Dr. Chinfabik nods.

Mind whirling, I stare at Kurt as he leaves. The part of my brain that's still functional tells me that my son's alone in his hospital room right now and I need to be with him. "Excuse me," I force a smile at Dr. Chinfabik and go back to Blaine's room. "Blaine?" I enter with no small amount of terpidation. He's looking up at me with far more. "Blaine, how do you feel?" I ask.

"I'm alright," Blaine says. I feel terrible. There's a growing ball of shame in my chest that I don't want there.

"Blaine, we don't have to talk about this right now if you don't want to," I say, partly because he looks like he would bolt if I tried, mostly because I don't want to. He nods immediately.

"I don't want to talk about it," he says anxiously I nod.

"The doctor said you can come home now," I inform him.

My son sighs very loudly in relief .I run home, grab some clothes, and help him dress and get in the car to go home. I see the semen on his jeans and make a mental note to put them in an evidence bag and give them to the police as soon as we get there.

"Blaine," I start once I pull up to the driveway, "I am so sorry."

Blaine looks astonished. "Mother," he says thickly, "it wasn't your falt."

"It wasn't my fault?" I snort. "I promised I'd never let anyone hurt you like the Andersons did, and Sebastian raped you while I stood by and yelled at you for things he did! Some mother I am; I can't even protect you!"

Blaine hesitates before putting a tentative hand on my shoulder. I grab his hand and squeeze. He wraps his arms around me and we hug for a while until, finally, I speak.

"Blaine, clearly, we're doing a lot of things wrong, so we're going to lay down some ground rules now," I put my hands over his in the backseat. "I promise to always give you the benefit of the doubt, no matter what my mood is at the time."

"I promise to call you when I'm in a situation where alcohol is involved," Blaine says.

"I love you, son," I tell him.

He tears up. "I love you too, Mother."

We embrace, and I open the door so we can both go inside. The first thing he does is head to his bed, and the moment his head touches the pillow, he falls into a fitful sleep. I don't understand what's missing at first, but then I remember Kurt leaving, and the awful expression on my son's face. Normally, I wouldn't let them sleep together, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I go to the living room to call Blaine's boyfriend and invite him over.

To my surprise, he snarls that he wants nothing to do with Blaine.

"Why?" I'm shocked. What happened in the hospital room while I was gone? Kurt and Blaine have always been inseparable.

"No offense, Ms. Rush. You seem like a lovely lady, but your son's a two-timing cheater. Goodbye." And with that, he hangs up and leaves me confused. When did Blaine cheat on Kurt?

I don't get an answer until dinner, when I hear sobs and shredding coming from upstairs. Going upstairs to investigate, I find Blaine sobbing viciously as he cuts up his jeans.

"Um, Blaine," I knock on the doorway, "can I come in?"

Blaine wipes his eyes and sits down on the edge of his bed before nodding.

"Now, I think we should give these to the police," I say, taking the denim pants out of his hands.

"Why?" Blaine is astonished.

"Blaine, your blood had a high concentration of the date-rape drug GHB in it," I say. "You were raped."

If I thought I was surprised when Kurt denounced my son, it's nothing compared to how I feel when Blaine shakes his head. "It wasn't rape," he says.

My brain refuses to make any sense of this, so my mouth stupidly blurts out, "What?"

Blaine's eyes fill with more tears. "I came, Mother. I got aroused, and that means it wasn't rape."

I snort so hard and so angrily, I wouldn't have been surprised if fire had shot out of my nostrils. But I'll leave the fire for Maura to deal with; right now, I have to deal with my son. "Blaine," I say, kneeling down, "a physical reaction says **nothing** about a person's mental state, and if someone says differently, they're lying." When Blaine continues to look at me blankly, I bite back a sigh and bring up an example from my FBI days. "I worked this case where teens from one small town started to hang themselves. See, they would tie their knots too tightly or too high, and when their brain was deprived of enough oxygen, they'd get high. They timed their highs, the person who was high the longest won. But some people went too far. You see, when the brain is un-oxygenated for too long, it shuts off non-essential functions, like the nerves of your arms and legs. Those people who died, they knew what they had to do to un-hang themselves, but they couldn't. Would you say that's a suicide, or an accident?"

Blaine nods and gives me the jeans. Relieved, I kiss his forehead. We were going to get through this together.

* * *

><p><em>Guys, work is going to get really busy because it's the holidays and everyone is leaving except me, so I have to run the entire morgue for a while. This should be fun! Don't expect another post for a few days, or longer, because, guys, each chapter after the first has gotten less than half its reviews, and the last chapter hasn't even been reviewed. I don't know whether or not I should even continue this for the rest of the school year, or just end it because nobody cares. If you do care, tell me. Thank you.<em>


	8. Stop and Stare

_Okay, obviously, you guys have very strong opinions about how terrible the last chapter was, so here's the redone Chapter 8, and clearly, my homicidal tendencies last night brought on by premature labor are not welcome._

_Disclaimer: I still don't own "Stop and Stare," by OneRepublic, nor the character of Emily Prentiss and the show she originated from (_Criminal Minds_)._

* * *

><p><em>"Stop and stare.<br>I think I'm moving but I go nowhere.  
>Yeah I know that everyone gets scared.<br>But I've become what I can't be, oh.  
>Stop and stare.<br>You start to wonder why you're here not there.  
>And you'd give anything to get what's fair.<br>But fair ain't what you really need.  
>Oh, can you see what I see."<em>

Chapter VIII: Stop and Stare

**Kurt**

The doorbell rings just as I'm finished with my moisturizing routine. It took a bit longer today because I didn't have a partner, but I couldn't call Blaine, not after what he did to me. I open the door to see his extremely angry mother. "I don't want to see him," I say.

"Kurt, have you ever heard of gamma-hydroxybutyric acid?" Pearl asks.

"I-"

"Better known as GHB, the date rape drug?"

"What?"

"Blaine's one beer was laced with so much, he almost overdosed and died. He didn't cheat on you, he was raped."

"But he said-"

"He thinks that, because he was aroused, he cheated on you, and he refused to come over because he thinks you would find him disgusting and defiled now."

"That's crazy!" I explode. "I know he's done all sorts of stuff before under duress; how could he think I would hate him now?"

"Because this time, you were actually around and knew what was going on."

I hang my head in shame. Pearl's turquoise eyes stare straight at me. "Blaine needs you there for him right now. Come out here; I can take you to him."

"Just let me grab my coat," I say, reaching in for my scarf, jacket, gloves, and hat. I see Pearl looking at me with amusement and snap, 'Well, not all of us can be hardy in all weather." She's wearing a skirt in December. She should be a human Popsicle.

When we get to her house, she drops me off and starts her car again. "Where are you going?" I yell as she pulls out of the driveway.

"I have to deal with Sebastian Smythe," she replies. Good answer. I turn back to focus on getting Blaine better, or at least not making him worse.

* * *

><p><strong>Pearl<strong>

It's cowardly, running away and forcing Kurt to deal with the fallout of my absence, but I don't know what else to do. The part of me who worked sex crimes screams at me to get the details out of my son with no less than clinical precision. But I'm also his mother, and that part of me wants to bash Sebastian Smythe's skull in. I pull up outside of the LPD station and look in the mirror before putting on enough make-up to at least stop looking deranged before I go in.

The steps up to the police department have never looked harder to climb, or closer.

* * *

><p><strong>Kurt<strong>

Blaine's sniffling on his bed when I come in, and he starts when he sees me. "Kurt?" he asks in disbelief as he wipes away his tears.

"Hey," I say, fidgeting at the doorway. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah," Blaine says hastily, sitting up and patting an empty part of the bed near him.

I don't sit as close to him as I could, and his face falls a little when he realizes this. "Kurt," he says, turning to me. "I am **so** sorry. I fought him as hard as I could, I swear. I'm sorry it wasn't enough. I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough, Kurt," his voice cracks. I am too dumbfounded to speak, and Blaine takes my silence negatively. "Please, please, Kurt, don't leave me, please!"

I put my arms around his shaking shoulders. "Blaine, I would never leave you for something like this," I put as much sincerity in my voice as I can. "I love you."

"But, earlier, you said you hated me," Blaine's voice sounds so small, I can't believe I did this to him. Oh, I know Sebastian had something to do with it; Pearl drove that part home. But I can't help but wonder how much of Blaine's new timidity is because I abandoned him.

"That was before I realized what happened," I say, putting my hands on his cheeks and making him look at me. "I acted horribly to you, and you didn't need me to. So, starting now, I'm going to make it up to you. Now, pick a movie."

"Kurt-"

"Pick. A .Movie," I say. "Come on, I don't have a giant flat-screen TV in my room, so let me take advantage of yours while I'm here."

Blaine smiles and goes to his mother's shelf of movies. It's small, but it's his first smile since he saw me, and I take it as a sign of hope. There's a long way to go, but I know he's on the right path, and that's enough for now.

* * *

><p><strong>Det. Sai<strong>

"You look like you're fifteen years older than you are," I say bluntly when she walks in.

"I feel fifteen years older than I am," Pearl says wearily. "I also feel like I'm fifteen and got caught with my boyfriend, which is kind of what I came here to talk to you about."

I raise one eyebrow. Pearl doesn't so much shrug as she jerks her shoulders. "I know how hard this is going to be to prove, okay? I used to work sex crimes. But I saw Sebastian Smythe rape my son; the hospital has records of the dangerous levels of GHB in his blood; and the injuries he sustained in the preceding struggle are still very apparent. Surely, that's got to count for something," she says, constantly twirling her hair between her fingers.

"It looks like an open and shut case," I frown. "Why are you so worried?"

"Because Blaine ejaculated, and I know what the defense lawyer is going to say about that."

"Oh," my expression must tell her how unlikely it is that Smythe will ever be punished for what he did, because the woman looks crestfallen.

She looks down at the table, tracing little patterns on the metal before her shoulders slump and she looks up. "I still want to press charges come tomorrow morning."

"What could you possibly get out of it?" I ask.

For a long while, she doesn't answer. "Did you know that, if you describe somebody else as arrogant, whoever you're describing that person to will ascribe those traits to you?" she asks. "I want people to hear the name Sebastian and think 'rapist,' even if the courts don't agree. I want people to keep their kids safe, like I didn't. I want people to know," she says, starting to stand.

I nod, understanding. "You know a lot about word choice," I say.

She shrugs, and it's more than just a jerk this time. "I used to do handwriting analysis for my mother."

"Then you should know that it's 'like I **couldn't**,' not 'like I didn't,'" I say.

She pauses at the door and turns to me, looking very surprised. "Thank you," she says, and her voice shakes a little bit, and then she leaves.

* * *

><p><strong>Kurt<strong>

"I'm glad you're here," he confesses after opening credits.

"Of course I'm here," I would tell him he's silly for thinking I would ever leave him, but given the events of earlier today, that's not actually that good of an idea.

"No, I mean, I'm glad you're **here**," he says insistently, and I know he wants to feel like he has a solid foundation underneath him. I'm sure I can provide a foundation, but I'm not sure if it's as strong as he would want it.

"Blaine," I give him a hug and my voice cracks.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I know she tried, and I know you tried, but the fact that you two are the only ones who tried and both of you left me at some point just…it just **hurts**, you know?"

The sight of his tears makes my heart crack in two. "Blaine, you know she's out there trying to make sure nobody has to go through what you're going through now."

"I know," he lets out a sob, "but why can't she be here instead?"

I hesitate for a second. "Blaine, you've obviously been through this before, and you didn't react this badly. Why is it so much worse not?"

Blaine snorts. "Why?" he wipes his eyes furiously. "Last time, I didn't have anyone I thought would keep me safe, Kurt," he yells. "Last time, I could **anticipate** it. This time, Pearl **promised**, okay? She **promised** I'd never have to go through this again and I did, and I was alone, and she promised she'd always **be** there for me!"

"You're not alone now," I say feebly, "and we're both here for you." But it's too late.

But it's too late. Blaine wipes his eyes one more time and says, in a flat tone. "I think you should go."

"I-"

"Get out of my house, Kurt!" Blaine picks up the picture Dad took of us when we got out of the hospital the day after Lauren's dad tried to kill us, and throws it so hard against the wall that the frame cracks and shatters. I go outside and count change.

* * *

><p><strong>Emily Prentiss (Lauren's mother)<strong>

"Emily?" Pearl sounds like she watched a kitten being boiled alive.

"Are you okay?" I ask. "I know Blaine had to go to the hospital. How are you holding up?"

"I screwed up," she says, and her words are dead. "I screwed up bad." I hear a wince on the other side. 'Okay, I'm never saying those words again, and I hope I never have to hear them."

"What happened?" I ask, "You don't call at," I check the clock, "one in the morning unless you're staring at a bottle of pills or a gun."

She's silent for a second, and it hits me. 'Oh, god, you actually are, aren't you?" I jump out of bed and start to get dressed. "Stay where you are, and you better still be alive when I get there. I'm coming over right now."

"Prentiss, I'm not going to kill myself."

Something in my chest relaxes so hard, I almost fall asleep again. "Oh, thank goodness," I say, sitting back down on my bed.

"I think I should, though," she says, and my heart clenches again. "Em, I promised my son that I'd keep him safe, and I know he was just starting to relax into his new life—being safe, you know?—and now all the progress I've made with him is gone and he's not going to trust me anymore!" She speaks too quickly for me to get a word in edgewise. "He's not going to trust anyone anymore! And when he finally does, he's going to place all his trust in that one person and it's gonna be Kurt and Kurt won't know what to do and Blaine'll get hurt again and-"

"Pearl, shut up," I holler. She shuts up. "You need to give Blaine more credit than that. The only way he's going to lose his trust in you is if you abandon him right now. The fact that he's hurt is because he does trust you; he's just not sure if he still can, and not sure isn't mistrust. But it can be. It can definitely grow to be. You have to go face his wrath. Face the fact that you weren't there for him **this one time** out of the many that he needed you, and try to make sure not to repeat that moment, because this isn't about you or how uncomfortable you feel. This is about him and how uncomfortable he feels thinking you're mad at him, and the most selfish thing you can do right now is to focus on yourself and not him."

She sighs a little in relief. "Thanks Emily," she says. "I guess I needed that."

"Good," I say, looking at the clock again. "Now, I'm going to go to sleep and you aren't going to call me again until you and your son have had a good talk and I've had a good night's sleep."

"Goodnight, Emily."

* * *

><p><strong>Rachel<strong>

"Thanks for driving me home," Kurt says when he gets into my car.

"You're welcome," I say, "and I think I have the perfect way for you and Blaine to reconcile."

* * *

><p><em>Sorry about the strange genre switches in the last chapter. I honestly was starting at a way to kill myself last night because I was kicked out of a hospital and listened to my girlfriend screaming as she went into labor. I said she was giving birth; it turns out that there are ways to stop labor if it's not supposed to be happening yet. The conversation Emily and Pearl have are almost word for word a conversation that my mother and I had, but about Heather instead of my nonexistent son.<em>

_This isn't the end; I won't leave you guys hanging for long, though._


	9. Jump Rope

_Okay, guys, this is the last chapter, unless season three brings more delight with it (which it probably will)._

_Disclaimer: the lyrics are from Blue October's song, "Jump Rope."_

* * *

><p><em>"You have to hold your head up high and <em>  
><em>Watch all the negative go by <em>  
><em>Don't you ever be ashamed to cry <em>  
><em>You go ahead <em>  
><em>Cuz life's like a jump rope"<em>

Chapter IX: Jump Rope

**Kurt**

It's late, and the movie's half over when Pearl gets back. She's almost unnaturally quiet, but her footsteps wake me up anyway. Beside me, Blaine stirs. Clearly, he's awake too.

"Mm," he looks around. "Who's there?" he asks with a yawn.

"It's just me, Blaine," Pearl says. "Sorry, did I wake you?" Her eyes go wide. "Were you guys planning to stay up all night watching a movie?" she glares.

"Please, Ms. Rush," I give her puppy dog eyes, and when Blaine shifts next to me, I know he's doing the same thing.

"Oh, alright," she says grudgingly before sighing. "But you two better be asleep before two."

Blaine and I look at each other in delight before settling down to watch the movie together. I settle happily into his chest and Pearl sits down on his other side. All three of us notice how Blaine holds himself stiffly, not letting himself relax in his mother's direction. I find her fidgeting so uncomfortable that I end up focusing on that instead of the movie. Finally, after about half an unbearable hour, Pearl speaks up.

"Blaine, can I talk to you for a moment?" she asks.

"I'll go get popcorn," I say quickly, disentangling myself from Blaine and going downstairs. She has a very large pantry. I could easily get lost in it.

* * *

><p><strong>Blaine<strong>

There is nothing she says that I would possibly want to hear, absolutely nothing.

"I'm sorry," she says.

Okay, except for that.

"I should have given you the benefit of the doubt and, believe me, I wish more than anything that I had been there to protect you. I understand that you're finding it really hard to trust me right now, and I hope that someday, I'll be able to earn that trust back."

There aren't any tears in my eyes, none at all.

Mother sighs and bites her lip. "These last few days have been pretty crazy, and isn't that the understatement of the century?"

There's a weird, hoarse gulping sound, and I slowly recognize it as laughter. Mother's eyes go wide and I laugh harder because she looks like a goldfish. I'm still kind of hurt that she wasn't there for me when I needed her, but she's here now, and that does make it hurt a little less. Besides, she's making an effort. I've got to give her some credit for that.

"And Blaine?" she comes in and takes my hand. "I'm sorry," she says. "I really am. I love you and I hope you can forgive me for this someday."

Blaine's smile warms my heart. "Mother, there's nothing to forgive. You couldn't have known how terrible the night would turn out, and I shouldn't have drank anyway." He pauses for a second before finally saying, "I love you, Mom."

* * *

><p><strong>Pearl<strong>

"I love you too," I kiss his forehead. "Now, I'm going to let you boys have your fun," I say as I stand. "So, toffee, caramel, butter, or kettle corn?"

"Toffee," Blaine says at the same time Kurt says, "Kettle."

I laugh. "Caramel it is," I answer. A few minutes later—Blaine has finally taught me how to work a microwave without making lighting myself on fire—I bring up warm bags of popcorn and settle in to watch _It's a Wonderful Life_ until 3:00 am despite the curfew I imposed on the boys. It's not like I haven't done something much worse than stay up late.

"Hey, Mother," Blaine whispers quietly. "My friends are doing a Christmas show, and I was wondering if you would-"

"Of course I'll tape it, Blaine!" I almost jump up and cheer.

"No," Blaine blushes. "I wanted to know if you would be okay with Kurt introducing me as his boyfriend."

"Oh," I smile as affectionately as I can. "Blaine, if you want Kurt to introduce you on live television, which almost everyone you know can access, then you go ahead and have him do it." I kiss the top of his forehead. "I want you to be happy. That's all a mother ever wants, is for her child to be happy and good."

There's a long pause before Blaine asks, "Am I good, Mother? I mean, I know I'm not happy, but am I good?"

I want to cry. "You're very good. You're better than I ever had any reason to expect."

Blaine nods and smiles before nesting his head in Kurt's chest. It's a gesture so intimate that I have to clear my throat

I clear my throat. "I don't think there's going to be any…activity, but if you do want to be, you know, active, then there are condoms in the drawer."

Blaine chuckles lightly and briefly, or he could be laughing at his dream. I turn off the light because they're both asleep.

* * *

><p><strong>Rachel<strong>

"I don't understand," Sebastian Warbler has an absolutely terrible voice. It sounds like he's been drinking milk tea instead of lemongrass tea. Only lemongrass can simultaneously strengthen and soften the throat, you know.

"Well, Sebastian, let me break it down for you," Daddy leans forward. "This is a police officer," he points at Det. Sai, "this is an arrest warrant," he slides a piece of paper over to the Warbler's hands, "detailing how you drugged and raped Blaine Anderson."

"I didn't do that!"

"Of course you did!" I snap. "Our choir's been suffering ever since Blaine stopped singing. And I'll have you know that, each time he's been slushied, or thrown into lockers, or tossed in the dumpster, or even pushed down the stairs, he's always gotten back up and sung louder, because he knows that singing is safe for him. The only reason he would stop singing is if singing stopped being safe—if someone he used to sing with made him feel unsafe!"

Sebastian doesn't respond. I stand up, glad that he stays sitting. I can act very powerful and intimidating, you know, even if I'm very short and physically nonthreatening.

"Excuse me, Daddy," I smile and kiss him on the cheek. "I have to go."

I have to apologize better.

* * *

><p><strong>Blaine<strong>

"Rachel!" I'm surprised to see her. "Come inside."

"I was hoping you'd come out here, actually," Rachel bites her lip. "I need to tell you something."

"I think I can stay here, actually," it's not that I don't trust her not to hurt me; it's that I don't trust her not to make me feel more uncomfortable than I already am.

"She wants to make up for her mistakes," Mother comes over and whispers in my ear. "Give her that; I can make breakfast just this once without blowing up the house."

I sigh and walk out with Rachel. She apologizes the entire way. About seventy-five apologies in, my responses turn from verbal to tired jerks of my head that may or may not be just me nodding off. But I'm abruptly shaken awake, because in front of me is the police station.

Oh, Rachel, you traitor!

* * *

><p><strong>Pearl<strong>

"Is it bad that I was so afraid of my son being upset at me that I didn't take him to the police on my own?" I ask.

"Of course," Emily responds. "He'd be upset either way, but one of those ways, he's angry at you for making him do something he doesn't want. The other way, he's angry at you for making him do something he doesn't want and upset that you couldn't tell him to his face."

I groan, but the kettle whistles more loudly.

"Oh, are you making tea?" Emily asks.

"No, soup," I say.

There's a pause. "You're going to want to throw that soup out. Now," she tells me.

"Okay, hold on," I say, hanging up.

"Wait, be careful taking the lid -"I open up the lid and soup splashes all over me "off." I turn to see myself stifling a giggle. "Why do I turn back to this time?" I ask my future self, and she has to be my future self, because I don't remember being here before.

My future self tells me about taking Sam across space and time and other universes with the Doctor. "I felt so bad that he died in my home."

I freeze. "Wait, Sam dies?" I ask.

She freezes. "Wait, Sam doesn't die?" she responds.

I blink, but she's gone. I look everywhere, but I can't find her, so I clean up the kitchen, rub salve on my burns, and leave to get my son.

* * *

><p><strong>Blaine<strong>

I am not happy to be here. "I don't want to press charges," I say. "I know I'd lose." In fact, I'm downright angry.

"But Sebastian doesn't," Det. Sai says. "You can do whatever you want," she adds, "but think of how many people will be hurt by Sebastian thanks to your silence."

I shake my head. "Why are you being so mean to me?" I demand.

"We're not being mean to you," Mother's voice makes everyone turn to her, including me. "You're being too stubborn to see what's right, and I understand that you're under stress right now, but that doesn't make catching Sebastian any less urgent. If anything, it makes it more urgent."

Don't cry, Blaine, don't cry. "Why do I have to do this?" Dammit, tears, I told you to stay hidden!

"Because you have people here who are willing to do anything for you," Rachel says, tugging on my chin until I see the shiny red burns on Mother's arm and face. "Everyone has worked so hard to get to this point. Please, let them do this."

I exhale. "Alright," I say grudgingly.

Rachel squeals happily, and Mother looks relieved and exhausted. Det. Sai gets up and grabs her partner. Sebastian Smythe is getting arrested for what he did.

Almost against my will, I feel a surge of hope.

* * *

><p><span>Thirteen months later:<span>

"Has the jury reached a verdict?" asks the female judge.

"Yes we have, Your Honor," the Jury Foreman, who's also female, stands and nods.

"And on the sole count of the indictment, first-degree rape, how does the jury find?"

Women tend to be more sympathetic to male victims than female victims, or so my father says.

"We the jury, find the defendant, Sebastian Smythe…."

* * *

><p><em>Of course I wasn't going to give you a definitive answer! ;)<em>


End file.
